


Love It or List It

by bangyababy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A Time Skip, Bottom Harry Potter, Feelings, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Forced Proximity, Fuck Or Die, Grimmauld Place, M/M, Praise Kink, Renovations, Slow Burn, Top Draco Malfoy, bed sharing, carefree Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 23:42:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11725035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bangyababy/pseuds/bangyababy
Summary: Draco Malfoy has been mysteriously hired to renovate Grimmauld Place. Harry Potter has nothing better to do since leaving the Aurors. Throw in an ancient ceremonial vase, a neglected (and magical house), loneliness, and you've got the beginnings of a beautiful relationship. That is if they (or the house) don't kill each other first.





	Love It or List It

**Author's Note:**

> This story...hoo buddy, this story kind of got away from me. There was so much I wanted to do with it, but so little time to really do it in so this is the end result. For my cliches, I choose renovating Grimmauld Place, Forced proximity, and fuck or die. 
> 
> As always, thanks to Helen for betaing. Any leftover mistakes are mine.

To say that Harry was surprised to find Draco Malfoy on his front step at nine-thirty in the morning on a Saturday wouldn’t have been entirely accurate. The fact of the matter was, Harry was pretty used to weird shit happening to him, and honestly what could be weirder than his childhood nemesis arriving at an unholy hour to his heavily warded house? Harry had long made peace with the fact that he would probably have little to no control over how normal his life was, and this was just one of those Things. 

“Well, I suppose you had better come in,” Harry said with a deep sigh, trying to forget that he was shirtless and in striped Quidditch pants and Malfoy was, as per usual, dressed to the nines.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at the entire situation but said nothing upon entering Grimmauld Place. Once Harry had shut the door behind him, Draco cleared his throat and said, “I take it you weren’t the one that owled me.”

Harry led him to the kitchen, not bothering to check if he was being followed and knowing within his bones that Malfoy was eyeing his home with snobbish distaste. “Nope.” Harry didn’t ask if Malfoy preferred coffee or tea. Instead, he just began to make a french press of strong espresso roast, as it was nine-thirty two on a Saturday morning, he was in striped Quidditch pants in front of Draco Malfoy, and he had no idea why he was there. Besides, he was in his own home and he could do as he pleased. When Harry finally turned to face Malfoy it was with a practiced easy smile. 

“Figures,” Malfoy said running a hand through his blond hair to push it out of his face. It was then Harry finally got a good look at him. His hair was longish and loose, vaguely reminding Harry of Bill Weasley, but it was much thicker and more styled. Malfoy had always been taller than him, but now it was even more apparent, a last ditch growth spurt he supposed, as Draco stood as tall as Ron, if not taller. In fact, if they were standing chest to chest, Harry was sure he’d have to tilt his head back at an uncomfortable angle just to look him in the eye. His head would probably just fit under Malfoy’s chin that was suddenly lacking is trademark pointedness. He bet his head would fit nicely there, maybe in the crook of Malfoy’s neck-

“Potter!” Harry jumped at the sound and realised that the kettle was whistling and Malfoy was smirking. Harry turned quickly to hide his blush and prayed to god that it hadn’t spread to the rest of his body. “As I was saying Potter, before you so rudely decided to have some kind of outer body experience, it seems someone has owled me on your behalf to request my services. Granger, if I were to guess.”

“What exactly are your services?” Harry asked as he turned back to face him, the French press in hand. He sat down at the table and Malfoy did the same. With a somewhat unnecessary flourish, Malfoy produced a business card, and unceremoniously flung it across the table hitting Harry smack in the forehead with the corner. Malfoy snickered as Harry glared. “Draconic Designs by Draco Malfoy, Designer.” Harry raised an eyebrow at Malfoy over the card. 

Malfoy looked away and sniffed, “It has a certain ring to it,” he said daring Harry to make fun of him.

“Yeah, a ring like ‘Draco Malfoy, self-centered sod,’” Harry shot back.

“Oh, fuck off Potter, do you want my services or not?”

“I’m not sure, what exactly do you design so draconicly?” 

“Interiors,” Malfoy answered and looked around at the mismatched kitchen pointedly. “But I have a feeling you’re not one for the modern, don’t worry I have ideas to suit even your, ah…underdeveloped tastes.”

Harry chose to ignore the thinly veiled insult and glanced around at his kitchen. True, it didn’t have a particular decor per se, but it wasn’t the worst. But he supposed that depended on what you considered the worst. 

“I don’t know Malfoy, why in the world should I let you redecorate my house?”

“That right there,” Malfoy replied, looking as if Harry had told him his shoes were last season. “That’s why you should let me redecorate your house.” Harry wrinkled his brow and Malfoy deigned to clarify with a huff. “House,” he repeated. “You referred to this place as your house, not your home. Once I’m done with this place there’s no place you’d rather be; that or it will fetch a shiny galleon on the market.”

It was as if Malfoy had reached across the table and snatched his glasses from his face while casting a clear sighted charm all at the same time: the wall paper was peeling, there was dust in every corner, nothing matched, but look there was his trusty kettle, here was where he sat when Ron and Hermione announced their engagement, and there was his favourite mug, and sure it wasn’t perfect but it was his, but really was it? Since moving in seven years ago the most Harry had down was cast cursory cleaning charms and thrown out whatever had too many holes or cracks in it. 

“So?” Harry countered, knowing full well Malfoy could see how his words had affected him. “I still don’t see why I should let you re-do the place.”  
“Because you’re clearly not going to,” Malfoy sat back and raise a hand to gesture to the surroundings. “You’ve lived here for years Potter, and what have you done? Nothing, that I can see, unless you decided the ‘used-to-be-a-drug-front’ is tres chic.” 

“I’ve done stuff with the place, it’s not my fault it’s so big.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, I’ve bought this French press for instance-”

“And barely of mediocre quality.”

“I re-sealed the window in my room-”

“Bravo, wouldn’t want the bugs no doubt already living there to have friends.”

“I took down that awful portrait of Sirius’ mother in the hall!”

“Now there is something to be proud of!” Malfoy crowed. 

“Fuck you, Malfoy, you know what I didn't even call you here, I don’t need this shit.” Why did Malfoy always make him feel like he had to prove himself? He had defeated a dark lord for fucks sake, what more could the git ask for?

“Fine,” Malfoy stood and readjusted his robes unnecessarily, “Enjoy living in your ghost house.” Harry’s breath hitched as Malfoy started for the door. Suddenly, he didn’t want Malfoy to leave at all. 

“Alright,” Harry said slowly once he had regained some control over his own thoughts. “I’ll let you redecorate.”

“Look, Potter, maybe this is a mistake like you said you didn’t even contact me.”

“I know.” Harry ran a hand through his hair and turned to face Malfoy. “But as much as I hate to admit it you’re kind of right.”

“I usually am,” Malfoy said with a playful smirk. 

“Don’t push it, Malfoy.”

“Only joking, Potter, do lighten up.” Malfoy made his way back to the table and sat down. “Especially if we are to work together.”

“Say something funny and I will,” Harry grumbled, and to his surprise, Malfoy let out a short laugh. 

“See, you are capable of humor.” He grinned and Harry didn't quite like the way that made him feel. “Now, would you like to see designs or rather I take a look around to get some ideas that will suit the place?”

“I suppose you had better look at the place first,” Harry said but immediately regretted it after thinking about how many pieces of dirty clothing strewn across your bedroom floor were acceptable for a guest to see. 

“That would be best,” Malfoy said, taking a sip of black coffee. “Now, if you like I’ll sit here and drink my coffee very slowly, while you go hide whatever it is you don’t want me to see or I can come help you get dressed?” Harry wasn’t sure how Malfoy managed to make one eyebrow so expressive but he didn’t have time to dwell.

“Give me ten minutes.”

_______

Exactly ten minutes later, Harry heard “Potter, I’m coming up.” Harry was just finishing putting his shirt on and kicking a pair of jeans under the bed when his door opened and Malfoy strode in. 

“Funny,” he said, “Usually when I walk into a bedroom men are scrambling to get their clothes off.”

Harry felt his mouth fall open before he could catch it himself and watched with eye brows near the ceiling as Malfoy took out an iPhone and began snapping pictures of the room. 

“Careful there, Potter, one might think that open mouth is an invitation.” He threw Harry a wink and strode out. 

Harry stood rooted to the floor for an entire minute before Malfoy’s shout from the other room compelled him to even think about moving. He turned to his mirror with a jolt and began checking himself for any signs of spell damage or illusions. Finding nothing, and pinching himself for good measure, Harry looked about the room and whispered, “What the fuck.”  
_____

“Well, I think I’ve got some ideas now, Potter,” Malfoy said making his way to the door. The last hour had been such a mix of snark and innuendo that Harry was pretty sure he was starting to find insults a turn on. “I shall come round tomorrow at a more reasonable hour, say eleven?”

“Yeah, that’s great, Malfoy,” Harry said from behind him. 

“Excellent, and please try not to over steep the coffee tomorrow, hmm?” Without waiting for a reply Malfoy exited out onto the street and disappeared with a crack. 

“Sure thing.” Harry was definitely going to let the coffee sit for ten minutes tomorrow, smarmy bastard. 

Harry closed the door and let out a sigh. He spent the rest of the morning wandering from room to room trying to envision some sort of change in them, something big enough that would make him feel like Malfoy had said. Like this wasn’t just a house, it was a home. Truthfully, he had been thinking more and more about selling the place or at least giving it to newly engaged Ron and Hermione. 

It wasn’t that Harry didn’t like living at Grimmauld, it was large and warm, and held just as many happy memories as good ones. It reminded him of Sirius and his parents, and his friends, but it also reminded him of the things that he had lost. Sometimes at night he would lie awake and imagine that Sirius was in the room next to his, that he was sleeping soundly, and if Harry just got up and peeked in he would see the soft rise and fall of the blanket with a tuft of black hair sticking out. 

But Harry never did, because unhealthy as it was, he would fall asleep with the thought that he wasn’t alone. But now, he realised that it wasn’t simply being alone in the house, it was as if he were simply passing through. He’d been living in Grimmauld Place for practically a decade now and what had he done with it? Bought a new bed and sitting room furniture, and a magically inclined television. That was pretty much it. 

And since he’d left the Aurors, he really had no excuse. He needed to take a hold of his life, as Hermione would say. 

“Kreacher!” Harry called determinedly. The elf popped into existence at his side. Usually, he sent Kreacher up to Hogwarts during the school year, it was just him at Grimmauld, so what was the point of a house elf, he reasoned. 

“Yes, Master Harry?” Kreacher bowed. 

“I need you to stay here for awhile, we’re going to redecorate the house, starting with cleaning out the attic. 

Harry swore he saw a tear form in Kreacher’s eye, but the elf quickly bowed his head before proclaiming, “Of course Master Harry, Kreacher will air out the attic.”

After about an hour Harry went up the stairs and started on the daunting task of clearing out the attic. He first did a cursory sweep for Dark artifacts and was unsurprised to find dozens of objects, but nothing too serious, so he wasn’t too worried about having something slice him to bits. He began separating into piles of keep, probably important, don’t need, and holy shit, why would this be up here? Of course, he wouldn’t throw anything away without Hermione first looking through it, as she was now working at the Ministry in the Research Committee. 

Harry ate lunch while he worked, and by the time Kreacher had dinner ready he was exhausted. He’d only cleaned out about a quarter of the attic but it was pretty good for one day. Maybe Malfoy had a team of house elves that could help with the rest. Harry ate in front of the T.V. and decided to head to bed early. Tired as he was, as Harry was falling asleep he still couldn’t help but imagine soft snores drifting under his door. 

_____

When Harry woke the next morning his back felt as if an overweight hippogriff had been stepping along his spine. He needed a pain potion ASAP but that meant walking to the bathroom. Harry had never felt comfortable being undressed around house elves, and now that he’d called Kreacher back he needed to put pants on for the trip, just in case. He groaned as he reached down to grab the jeans he’d kicked under the bed the previous day, but his hands came up empty. Kreacher had probably seen to them. 

With a sigh, he went to his wardrobe and grabbed a pair of grey joggers and went about his morning. He was still clad only in the joggers when the wards indicating Malfoy’s arrival chimed. 

“Don’t you own more than one shirt, Potter?” Malfoy asked as he strode into the house. 

“No,” Harry rolled his eyes. “Afraid I wore my only one yesterday. I wouldn’t want to offend your delicate sensibilities by wearing it two days in a row.” He shut the door.

“Lucky me,” Malfoy said, lightly biting his lip and giving Harry a once over. Harry felt his mouth open before he could catch it and watched Malfoy walk towards the kitchen. “Have you got the coffee on yet?” he called. 

Harry puffed out a breath towards his hair before following Malfoy into the kitchen. He already knew it was going to be a long morning. 

In the kitchen he found Malfoy pouring two cups of coffee, stirring in the amount of sugar he saw Harry take the day previous. Harry raised a brow. “It’s my job to pay attention to details, Potter.” He pushed the mug towards him. 

They sat and Malfoy pulled out several slim files. The first one he opened was paint swatches. “Now,” he began, “You’re clearly one for a traditional design, but I’d like to bring you into the 21st century by introducing you to transitional. The first thing we need to do is figure out a color scheme, mainly a wall color and try to work around it. So I’ve got several samples here, but first I need to know what you want from your home.”

“Want from it? I want it to keep me warm and dry. And what does transitional mean? I don’t want to transition anywhere unless you fuck my house up beyond repair.”

Malfoy rubbed closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “Potter, please we’ve literally just started, don’t do this.” 

“Just fucking explain to me, Malfoy. Don’t expect me to know all this stuff.”

“Fine. First, transitional means mixing modern or contemporary design with traditional design. Think of it like the Hogwarts interiors mixing with, I don’t know-the Tate Modern. So a room that is generally bright and airy, but has substance, a solidness, firm and familiar. Now, for colors usually people go with pale greys, eggshell white, beiges, and taupes, but the right blue or green could work, too. However, we must take into account your fireplace.”

“Why?”

“Because you can’t have a fireplace the same color as the walls. Plus there’s the molding.”

“Mold!” Harry looked alarmed. 

“Not that I don’t do this house if full of mold, Potter, but I was talking about the pieces of wood along the floor and ceiling.” 

“Oh,” Harry visibly deflated. 

“So, first, could you tell me what kind of feeling you’d like to get when you walk through the front door?”

Harry thought back to when Malfoy had been describing what transitional meant. One of the things that had struck him was the idea that his house could be bright, but firm. Solid. “Grounded,” Harry finally answered. Something flashed in Malfoy’s eyes but it was too quick to tell what it was before he was looking down at his file and flipping through the samples. He showed Harry a series of swatches in varying shades of grey. 

“How do you feel about these?” Harry nodded. “Which ones do you think you could look at every day?” 

Malfoy watched Harry intently and without embarrassment. Harry took his time choosing the colors, and when he was done he had two opposite shades of grey- a light slate grey and a pale grey. “These are…quite different colors,” Malfoy said, brow furrowed. 

“This one reminds me of your eyes,” Harry blurted, suddenly over come with the desire to defend his choices. He went red immediately. “I just mean, that…I’ve looked at your eyes for years so, I could look at the walls- you know if-” he huffed when Malfoy burst out laughing. “You’re never going to let me live this down are you?”

“Not on your life, Potter,” Malfoy said through his laughter. Harry sighed and got up, calling out that he was getting more coffee as Malfoy’s laughter faded out. 

Next, they picked curtain fabric, as well as furniture. Malfoy tried to show him rug designs, but Harry said he’d had had enough for one day. 

“No matter,” Malfoy said gathering up his belongings, he was bent over picked up a fallen fabric sample, Harry’s eyes glued to his arse. “But how would you like to do me, Potter?”

Harry choked.

Malfoy smirked at him knowingly when he turned around, “I said how would you like to do this, Potter?” Harry had a feeling that wasn’t what he had said, at all. “Do you want to do a big remodel all at once, or a room by room thing. A big remodel does mean you’ll need to leave the premises for at least a week. If we do it room by room it means you can stay here.” 

Harry didn’t need time to think. “I’d rather stay here, so room by room is good.” 

“Alright, shall we start with the living room tomorrow, then? And I’ll bring some books for you to look at while I work.” 

“Sure, sounds alright. Have you got a team all ready then?” 

Malfoy shrunk his samples his portfolio’s as he spoke, “I haven’t got a team, just me.” 

Harry couldn’t help the incredulous look that crossed his face. “But it’s so big!”

“Don’t worry, I can handle it,” he said with a leer. Harry didn’t resist the urge to roll his eyes. “Really, I normally have a team for this, but in the original letter that was sent, discretion was asked for, so discretion was used. Unless you’d like three to five strangers in your house?”

“No, no, you’ll be enough,” Harry said shaking his head. 

“I guarantee I’m more than enough, Potter,” Malfoy called heading for the door. “Never had a dissatisfied customer.” he winked as he opened the door. “See you tomorrow, Potter, and stop over steeping the coffee!” And he was gone. 

Harry couldn’t help but smile at Malfoy. If only he had acted like this when they were back in school, maybe they would have gotten along, gotten more than along, perhaps. 

Harry shook his head to clear it out thoughts that were definitely going to head south, in more ways than one, and returned to the living room to clean up, only to find that Kreacher had got to it first. With nothing else to do, he decided to head back up to the attic in order to finish clearing out the junk there. 

Harry must have been working for longer than he thought when he heard the Floo chime down stairs and Hermione call out. With Malfoy visiting he had forgotten it was his night to host dinner. Though host was a loose term, as they usually just ordered takeaway. 

“Be down in a minute,” Harry called carelessly setting down a large book. The room seemed to shift for a moment before Harry broke into a series of sneezes. 

“Are you all right?” Hermione called already on the stairs. He was still sneezing by the time Hermione made it to the entrance of the attic. “Harry?”

He sneezed one last time, and choked out, “Alright, just some dust.” 

Hermione looked around in wonder at all the things he had stacked into piles. “Harry, what is all this?”

“Oh, since Malfoy is re-doing the house I thought it was about time to get rid of some of this junk.” He sneezed again. 

“That’s a good idea, though I’m not sure if I would call this junk, per se.” She turned her attention back to Harry who seemed to be about to start about another sneezing fit. “Let’s go down stairs, yeah?”

“Ron still at work?” Harry asked when they got downstairs. 

“Yeah, he was sent on assignment this afternoon. He told me to tell you he’ll owl you as soon as he can.” 

“What’s the case about?” Hermione shot him a look. “What? Can't I even ask? He’s been sent on assignment, Hermione.” 

She sighed and sat down take out menus in hand. “Of course you can Harry, but you know that-”

“I’m not supposed to be involved in an Auror work. Yeah, Mione, I get it, but it’s a bit hard when one of your best mates is an Auror.” 

She nodded, “Anyway, it’s a big case but it’s not that interesting. Just illegal potions or something.”

“I’m sure Ron will tell me about when he gets back,” Harry said. 

“Do you want Chinese?” Hermione said without looking up. 

“I mean, sometimes the banalest cases turn out to be the best.” 

“Or perhaps chips?” 

“I remember one case where-”

“Harry,” Hermione said softly. 

“Right,” Harry said with a small smile. “Sorry.” 

Hermione reached across at took Harry’s hand. “I know you miss it Harry, and I’m sorry, but I promise it’s better this way.”

“I know.” He squeezed her hand and she let go after a moment. 

“So, I’m really thinking Chinese. You?”  
“Sounds great.” 

“So how are things with Malfoy?” Hermione asked after they had placed their orders. 

“Strange…but not bad.” Hermione gave him an expectant look, so he expanded. “Well, every other word out of his mouth is an innuendo of some sort, as I told you, and I really can’t tell if he’s taking the piss or not.”

Surprise showed on Hermione’s face for only a moment. “Do you want him to be?” 

“I’m…I’m not sure,” Harry admitted. “He’s….interesting.” 

“Well, you have always been slightly obsessed with him, Harry.”

“I have not.” Harry could physically see Hermione trying not start listing evidence to the contrary. “Okay, but really it was only sixth year, and I had a really good and totally justifiable reason.” 

“Harry, honestly.”

“Alright, fine you win.”

“Anyway, how are the house repairs going?” Hermione said, trying to change the subject. 

“Pretty good. We’re actually going to start tomorrow, so if you don’t hear from me for a few days please assume that Malfoy has left me under a pile of curtains to die.” 

After that Harry told Hermione of the plans he and Malfoy had picked out until the food arrived. They half watched a rerun of East Enders as they ate, continuing to chat throughout. When it got late, Hermione promised to come over in a few days to check out anything of interest in the attic before flooing home. 

______

When Malfoy arrived the next day he got straight to work, he cleared out the furniture, promising to donate it. Harry watched for awhile until Malfoy shouted at him to bugger off. 

Harry had gone through some of the samples Malfoy had brought over, and marked places of interest. He then decided to get back to work upstairs. He had been in the attic all of five minutes before he heard the shout. He came rushing down stairs so fast he was pretty sure he apparated down half of them. 

“Malfoy, what’s wrong?” Harry asked before even seeing him. When he turned the corner he saw Malfoy standing stock still, whiter than the day he had stood before the Wizengamot. “Malfoy?” 

“Potter,” he whispered, motioning for him to stay where he was. “Something’s wrong.”  
Harry stood on the thresh hold of the room, watching Malfoy turn in slow circles, wand out staring at the walls.

“Malfoy, you need to tell me what’s wrong,” Harry said urgently. 

“The walls,” Malfoy whispered. “The walls are the same.” 

Harry sighed at the dramatics, “That’s because you need to paint them.” 

“Potter,” he rounded on him, “I already did.” 

“I don’t understand, they look the same.” 

“Exactly, Potter. I left the room and when I came back they were the same.”

Harry looked from wall to wall and back to Malfoy’s increasingly panicked face. “But how?”

“I’m not sure. This is an old pureblood house, so it definitely has magic weaved into it, but the question is, does it have its own magic or did I just trip something in the magic already there? I need to go and research this.” He slowly headed for the kitchen side exit. 

“I’m coming with you,” Harry said finally braving the room and following him, wand out. 

“Not a good idea, Potter, it’s house magic to some degree and you’re the owner, so it’s best if you stay. I’ll go to the Manor to get some books, see if there’s anything on record there and if my mother knows anything.” 

Harry watched as Malfoy searched for something in the kitchen. “What are you looking for?” 

“My coat, I can’t find it. It doesn’t matter, I’ll just grab another.” 

“Malfoy, I really think I should come with you. I mean if the house is alive, who’s to say it won’t turn against me when you’re gone?” Harry was right behind him as he headed for the door. 

“No one, really, but it’s a chance we’re going to have to take. Look, I’ll grab some books and come back so we can go through them together. You can even call Granger if you like.” They were standing in the hallway in front of the door now, Malfoy adjusting his robes.

“Of course I’m going to call Hermione.” 

“Right. Then I’ll be back within the hour.” He turned towards the door, put his hand on the knob and turned only to have it come off in his hands. “Fuck, Potter!”

Harry peeked around just in time to see the door knob disintegrate is Malfoy’s hand. “Shit.”

“Can’t we just use a spell?” Harry asked. 

“Absolutely not, not on house magic. It’s too dangerous.” Malfoy headed for the living room. “This is worse than I thought.” The living room was exactly the same as it had been this morning. 

“Malfoy, what the fuck is going on? Are we trapped in here?” 

“I don’t know. Let’s try the Floo.” 

Harry entered first, said Hermione and Ron’s house, but when he threw down the powder, nothing happened. Harry didn’t need to see Malfoy’ face to know that that was decidedly not good. 

“Let me try to just call,” Harry suggested. That didn’t work either. 

“Potter, this is very, very bad.”

“No fucking shit, Malfoy,” Harry spat. “We’re trapped in this house with no way to contact anyone.”

“Wait!” Malfoy shouted, fumbling with his pockets. “My mobile!” 

“Malfoy, you’re a genius!”

“I know. I guess we’ll have to call Granger, as Mother doesn’t have a phone.”

Harry was already dialing on his own phone. “Come on, pick up, pickuppickuppickup,” he murmured.

_“Hello?_ ”

“Hermione!” Harry breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Put it on speaker,” Malfoy demanded. 

_“Harry are you alright?”_ Hermione asked. At this point, Malfoy grabbed the phone and put it on speaker himself. 

“No, Granger, he is not alright.”

_“Malfoy? What’s going on?”_

“Hermione, we’re trapped in the house!”

Malfoy snorted. “It’s a bit more complicated than that,” he began walking away from Harry. “Somehow some of the house magic has been activated. I’m not sure if it was magic that was woven into the house or inherent. But in any case, we’ve been locked inside with no way to get out. We can’t even use the Floo.”

_“What exactly happened? Have you tried Kreacher? Have you looked through the library, there? I’m heading over now to see if I can get through the wards.”_ Sounds of Hermione getting things together could be heard in the background. 

Malfoy turned to Harry. “What creature?”

_“Kreacher is a house elf,”_ Hermione explained before Harry could.

“You have a house elf and you didn’t say anything! Why haven’t I seen them?”

_“Malfoy, I’m going to hang up now so I can apparate over, hopefully, I can see you in a minute.”_ Hermione hung up without another word. 

“I forgot about Kreacher,” Harry admitted. 

“For Merlin’s sake just call him.”

“KREACHER!” The elf appeared before him with a ‘pop.’ “Oh, thank God.” 

“Master Harry, Master Draco,” Kreacher said, looking at anything but the two men standing before him. “This is not good, Master Harry, this is Dark magic here.” 

“Kreacher,” Malfoy said in a tone that made the elf stand up straight. “Can you tell us what is happening?”

“She’s not happy. It’s not right. She’s not happy.”

“Who’s not happy?” Harry asked. 

“The house, you idiot, but why. What’s not right, Kreacher?” 

“You two. It’s not right,” Kreacher repeated. 

“What does that mean us?” Harry asked. 

“Why the fuck should I know,” Malfoy answered, just as Harry’s cell phone went off. 

“May Kreacher go? It’s not right. She’s not happy.”

“You may leave,” Malfoy dismissed him. 

_“Harry, Malfoy, I’m outside but I can’t get in, not even to the garden. I can see the house but when I try to get near it’s like there’s a ward round it.”_

“Well, Kreacher can come and go, so that’s a good sign,” Malfoy said. 

“But he also said that ‘it wasn’t right’ and the house isn’t happy, so that’s not the best news,” Harry interjected. 

_“Can you two tell me exactly what happened, please?”_

Malfoy retold most of the story, with Harry interjecting bits along the way, when they were done Hermione asked, _“Harry, it might be nothing, but you remember when you were in the attic yesterday, and couldn’t stop sneezing? Do you think you might have…disturbed something?”_

“It’s possible, I’ll give it a look,” Harry told her. 

“Granger, listen,” Malfoy said seriously, “Someone needs to speak with my mother. This home has been in her family for years. She must know something.”

Hermione was silent for a moment, and for a second Harry thought she was going to refuse. _“Alright, I’ll Floo her,”_ she said. 

“Thanks, Hermione,” he said and hung up. 

“What’s in the attic?” Malfoy asked, heading for the stairs.

“Just some old junk, really, well I thought. Just heirlooms and things. Books, trinkets, the like,” Harry said following him up. 

“Potter, for fucks sake, why didn’t you tell me this before I started the renovations?” Malfoy started to take the stairs two at a time. 

“I dunno, it didn’t seem important,” Harry said defensively. 

“Well obviously, it is!” He gestured for Harry to open the attic door. 

Slowly, Harry opened the door, wand out. When nothing attacked, he opened the door fully, and found the room just as he left it what seemed like a life time ago. “It looks the same.” 

“What were you doing up here yesterday?” Malfoy came into the room behind him. 

“Sorting things, trying to clear the place up a bit. Nothing particularly out of the ordinary happened, except for the sneezing.” Harry thought for a moment. “I did feel like the room kind of shifted for a moment, but I thought that was because I was about to sneeze.” Malfoy nodded absently and looked around for anything to jump out him. “Nothing in the room really gave me a weird feeling. I checked for Dark magic before I touched anything.” 

“House magic is a funny thing,” Malfoy told him stepping further into the piles of sorted stuff. “It can manifest in a number of different ways, at any given time. The first thing we need to do is see if anything up here is what set the house off.” 

“How are we going to be able to tell if we’ve found it?”

“I’m really not sure; hopefully, the house will be generous and spell it out for us. I think we should start with books first. Maybe they will have something about it.”

“Oh, there’s a book a saw yesterday that had a big house on it and said something like ‘Building a Presentable Home’ or something, I just put it on the table here,” Harry said rifling through things on the table. “It was just here, I swear it.” 

“It’s gone?”

“Yeah, and I didn’t move it.”

“Potter,” Malfoy said slowly, “Have you noticed anything else going missing?”

“Well…no,” Harry thought.

“You don’t seem sure,” Malfoy pressed.

“Well, there was my jeans…and my favourite mug…and then your coat today,” Harry was ticking things off his fingers when he was interrupted by chiming sound.

Malfoy’s eyes went wide, “Is that-?”

“Yes!” Harry said already running for the door in a near sprint, Malfoy right behind him. 

“Draco?” A voice rang out. 

“Mother!” Malfoy pushed past Harry on the stairs and rushed to the Floo. “Mother, it’s you, thank Merlin.”

“Are you and Mr. Potter alright?” Mrs. Malfoy asked. 

“Yes, we’re fine, for now, but Mother how are you able to call and Granger was not?”

“I suspect it has something to do with my being a Black,” Mrs. Malfoy answered. “Now, tell me what happened.” 

Malfoy relayed the whole story again, adding in the information about what Kreacher had said, and the book Harry had found, as well as the missing items. When he was done Mrs. Malfoy looked grim. “Mr. Potter,” she said turning her head to look at him. Harry, who had been silent up until this point, stiffened. “I must apologise.” 

“No need, Mrs. Malfoy, there’s no way-” Malfoy elbowed him in the ribs, cutting him off.

Mrs. Malfoy acted as if she hadn’t seen her son’s gesture, and continued. “It was I who sent Draco to Grimmauld Place,” she ignored Draco’s gasped ‘Mother!’ “I remember it as a girl, and I know it wasn’t the most hospitable of environments. So, when I heard you had recently acquired some free time, with nothing to fill it with, I thought it would be nice to restore Grimmauld Place to a more warm and welcoming home. I had no idea that such binding magic existed there.”

“Oh…well, that was, er, very thoughtful of you Mrs. Malfoy. I appreciate the gesture,” Harry tripped out. 

“I’m very sorry it turned out this way, but Mr. Potter, could you please tell me again the name of the book that went missing?”

“Er, yes, it was something like ‘Building a Presentable Home Together-”

“A Pureblood Family’s New Home,” she finished. 

“Yes, that’s the one.”

She sighed, “That book went out of fashion decades ago, but I do remember being given a copy when I married Mr. Malfoy. I’ll have to check my copy again, but as far as I can tell, Grimmauld Place has mistaken you two for a new couple. I suspect it has something to do with Draco being of Black lineage, and something else you may have disturbed in the attic, Mr. Potter. Perhaps a ring, or some other trinket of affection.”

Everyone was silent for a few moments before Mrs. Malfoy continued. “I’ve given Miss Granger full access to our library here, so she may research it more in depth.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Malfoy asked. 

“Is she not the brightest witch of her age?” Mrs. Malfoy asked. 

“Yes,” Malfoy admitted begrudgingly and Harry gave him a look. 

“Then I suspect she will be smart about her perusal of the library,” Mrs. Malfoy answered matter of factly. 

“In the mean time,” Harry cut in, before either Malfoy could say anything else. “What should we do?”

Even in the green of the flames, Harry could see Mrs. Malfoy’s cheeks turn red. “Well,” she said slowly. “You do need to do any remodeling together, probably without magic for now, and you need to laud the home.”

Harry and Malfoy spoke at the same time, but for different reasons. “Laud?”

At this point, Hermione appeared in the flames. “You need to christen the home…show Grimmauld place that you’re serious.” 

“You mean sex?” Harry said stupidly. 

“Potter,” Malfoy hissed, elbowing him again, eyes darting to his mother’s face that was hovering on the edge of the flames. Harry mouthed back sorry. 

“It’s possible you won’t have to go that far, but you do need to be affectionate with each other. Touching at the very least, but you should also start using each other’s given names,” Hermione continued. 

Mrs. Malfoy came into full view again. “First, you two should do a tour of the home, and then get to work in the remodel. But you must be careful to do things in good faith.”

“What does that mean?” Harry asked.

“It means we have to play nice, Harry,” Draco answered. “Mother, thank you for being such a great help, we shall call if we have any further information.”

“As shall we,” Mrs. Malfoy answered. 

“Good luck you two,” Hermione said through a watered down smile, and ended the call. 

Harry looked to Draco and Said, “We’re going to need it.”  
______

“Not that way, Harry! Up and down!” Draco shouted. 

“Well, I’m doing the best I can, Draco! I can’t believe we have to do this the Muggle way.”

“It feels better this way,” Draco snorted. 

“It’ll feel good with magic, too,” Harry replied. 

“For Merlin’s sake, Po-Harry, you’re painting a wall, not building the Taj Mahal! Mother said no magic, so no magic.”

Harry huffed, “Yes, but surely a simple spell like this…”

“Listen, I know you have some morbid fascination with the possibility of dying, but I’d rather not risk it, if that’s alright with you.” 

Harry rolled his eyes and kept working. After they had toured the home (for the second time), the decided to start the remodel before attempting any sort of physical contact. Harry was doing everything he could not to think about what exactly that meant, but it wasn’t particularly working. There was no denying that Harry was physically attracted to Draco. And perhaps increasingly emotionally. He was handling this whole Trapped Together Thing quite well.

Before Harry could examine their situation any further he asked, “So how did you get into this anyway?” 

“I knew you couldn’t be quiet for more than five minutes,” Draco replied immediately. 

“I’m just trying to make this more interesting!” Harry shouted. 

“Painting is interesting, almost as interesting as watching paint dry,” Draco said seriously. Harry gawked at him and Draco didn’t have to turn to see him do it. “I’m only joking, you can close your mouth.” 

Harry turned back to his wall, grumbling about boring, pointy gits.

It was a few moments before Draco spoke. “I re-did the Manor.”

“What?”

Draco continued on as if Harry hadn’t spoken. “After the trials were over and Mother and I were on house arrest, there was nothing to do. And we couldn’t leave, we had to stay there, in each room, revisiting, reliving the Dark Lord there. Mother never said anything, but I knew she hated it, she hated having her home taken from her, but being forced to stay there. It wasn’t where I grew up. He’d ruined it, for both of us. 

So I decided not to let him take this last thing from us. The house elves could come and go, and we could get owls, so I ordered catalogs of designs and got to work. I didn’t tell Mother what I was doing until I had completely finished the West wing, that’s where most of the damage had been done. When our house arrest was over, I tried to get a job, but…”

“There wasn’t much work then,” Harry interjected, saving Draco from admitting the truth.

“Right, well, then I remembered I was decent at re-doing the Manor, so maybe I could re-do other homes. So, I approached Lovegood.”

“Luna?” Harry asked turning around. Draco was still painting the wall, working in sure, smooth strokes. 

“Yes, she seemed the best place to start. I would have with Pansy, but she was on the continent. So, I asked Lovegood if she would like to try any of my services. When I was done, she said it was lovely.”

“Really? She said it was lovely?” Harry asked in disbelief. 

Draco chuckled and turned to face Harry. “Not really, she said ‘I don’t think Wrackspurts will ever come near here again,’ but I took that to mean she liked it.” Harry laughed, that was more like Luna. “After that, I started approaching people who the war hit hardest.”

Draco paused, and Harry pressed him. “How did that go?”

“It was…interesting. A lot of people turned me a way, threw it in my face what I was trying to do. Some accepted because I was doing it for free, but they weren’t kind about it.” Harry let out a gasp at the revelation, but Draco hadn’t heard him. “Others, like Lovegood, genuinely appreciated what I had done.” 

It was quiet for a few moments before the sound of Draco painting filled the room again. Harry had to wonder why he was being so forthcoming, but he decided not to question it and just take what he could get out him. He brazened a tentative, “Why didn’t I ever hear about this?”

“I asked people not to tell for a long time. And I’ve never really advertised. It’s just been recently I took an ad out in the Prophet.” 

They finished the room silently. When they were done Harry looked around nervously. “Now what?” he all but whispered. 

“Time to laud the home, I suppose,” Draco answered. 

“But shouldn’t we wait until the room is finished?” Harry asked. 

“I don’t know,” Draco answered. “Can’t really hurt us to do it twice, can it?”

“Twice?” Harry said in a panic. “In each room? Then we will have had sex….dozens of times! Hundreds even!”

“Calm down, Harry, you heard what Granger said.” Draco put his hands on Harry’s shoulders to stop him from moving. “I’m sure a simple blow job will suffice for now.” He smirked and pressed down lightly on Harry’s shoulders. Harry couldn’t help the reaction that that caused, his dick twitched in his pants at the thought of sucking Draco off. His face must have shown the opposite of what he was feeling because Draco suddenly laughed. “You should see your face!”

“It’s not fucking funny, Draco!” Harry bit out, but Draco was still laughing. 

“This is a pureblood home, and we are in the living room,” Draco said after his laughter died out. “A blow job, while completely welcome, would be scandalous. I’m sure a kiss will be fine. Unless Granger or Mother finds evidence to the contrary.”

“Just a kiss?” Harry could tell he sounded hopeful, but he honestly couldn’t say what he was hopeful about. 

“For now,” Draco said, leaning down. His mouth hovered about Harry’s, and Harry could feel his breath tickling his lips. When he Harry looked into his eyes, they were bright and playful. “Scared, Potter?” he whispered. 

Harry smirked up at him and threw his arms around Draco’s neck. “You wish,” he replied, just before drawing their lips together. 

Draco wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist, pulling him closer as he deepened the kiss. Harry stumbled back, but Draco steadied him. Harry found that the kiss was not at all what he thought kissing Draco Malfoy would be like, and yes had thought about it. It was aggressive, yes, but it wasn’t a competition, not really, they way their tongues moved together was more like two star Quidditch players on the same team. It was demanding, but ultimately the goal was the same. 

Eventually, they had to break apart, lips moist, breathing heavy, eyes half lidded, and faces still close. 

Draco hummed. “Not bad.” He gave Harry a playful peck before heading up the stairs.  
They searched the attic to no avail. Around nine with no further word from Mrs. Malfoy or Hermione, Harry decided to call it a night. 

“Let’s just try again the morning, Draco, I don’t think I can even feel my eyes right now.”

Draco sighed. “You’re probably right. We’ll be better in the morning.” They headed downstairs, and Draco stopped in front of Sirius’ room. “Shall, I take this room, then?’

“No!” Harry said quickly. “Er, I mean, that room it’s not good.”

“Not good?” Draco repeated, eyebrow raised. 

“Yeah, really bad circulation. Bad for your skin.”

“Right,” Draco said slowly. “I’ll just take the one across the hall then?”

“Yeah, perfect,” Harry said as Draco opened the door.

“Actually, I won’t be.”

“Huh?” Draco stepped aside to let Harry look into the room. “Where’s the bed? It was here earlier!”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Draco asked, leaning on the doorframe. “We have to sleep together.” He walked over and opened Harry’s room. “Oh look, a bed,” he said in an unsurprised tone. 

“Together?” Harry repeated, entering the room after Draco. “We can’t sleep together.”

“Harry,” Draco said tiredly. “What part of ‘the house thinks we’re married’ do you not understand?” 

“Honestly? All of it!” Harry retorted. “It’s not exactly the every day that your goddamn house tried to marry you off.”

“Well, Potter, this is where we are, and you’re going to have to fucking get used to it, just like you’re going to have to get used to sleeping in this bed, with me. Unless you want to sleep on the floor.”

“It’s my house, Malfoy, so if anyone is going to sleep on the floor, it’s you!”

“Hardly. If anything this is more my house than yours, I actually have a legitimate claim on it! It was given to you by an exiled family member.”

Harry stepped forward, crowding Draco against the bed post. “As far as I’m concerned Sirius is the only Black who matters!”  
“Is?” Draco said, “Don’t you mean was?”

When Harry’s fist connected with Draco’s face, there was a shattering sound that sounded way too loud for flesh meeting flesh, even if Harry had some how managed to break Draco’s skull. 

“The fuck, Potter!” Draco shouted. A splintering sound followed. Harry reared back to strike again, but Draco pushed him away. There was a loud and ominous creaking, just as Harry fell to the floor. They both watched in horror as the ceiling began to crack, traveling down the wall and hitting the floor, before stopping. Hold his check, Draco quickly grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him up and towards him. “Harry,” he whispered. “Look.”

In addition to the room looking as if it would split open and lets the fury of the heavens fall in at any moment, the mirror on the wardrobe was shattered, the wardrobe, as well as the dressing table, had splintered apart. Sharp pieces of wood stuck out at all angles and littered the floor mixing with glass. 

"I think we should go to sleep,” Harry said as calmly as he could manage. 

“Excellent idea,” Draco replied without looking at him. They got ready for bed quickly, not bothering to try to change into any pajamas. They stripped to their boxer briefs and settled in under the covers. They didn’t speak at all, not even when Draco reached out and took Harry’s quivering hand underneath the blankets. 

When Harry woke the next morning it was because of Draco’s groaning. 

“Malfoy?” he said sleepily. “What’s wrong?” Harry sat up and suddenly his whole body seized up. He joined in on Draco’ s groaning. 

“Harry,” Draco gasped out. “Look at yourself.” 

Even without his glasses, Harry could see the marks across his skin. Big, black, blue, purple, and green bruises littered his chest. He saw much of the same on Draco’s chest. “What is this?” he whispered. 

“Punishment,” Draco answered. He reached a hand out to Harry. “Come here.”

“Why?”

“Harry, please,” Draco groaned. When Harry moved over, Draco buried his face into his neck. Harry stiffened, but eased into the touch when Draco started placing soft kisses on his neck. Harry reached up and threaded his fingers through Draco’s hair, unsure of what to do. “We have to show the house we’re sorry,” Draco murmured. 

Oh. Right, the house that had trapped them together because it thinks they’re a couple. The house that was forcing them to be together. Harry tensed again when Draco’s hand splayed across his chest, rubbing a nipple. “Come one, Harry,” Draco said between peppered kisses, “Get into it.”

Perhaps a bit too forcefully, Harry pulled Draco’s head back and began biting at his lips. Draco made a noise of surprise, but went with the flow, his hand moving down Harry’s torso to cup his growing hardness. 

Harry pulled back and Draco looked down at him with lust filled eyes. “Didn’t know you liked it so rough,” he said with a hard squeeze on Harry’s dick. 

“Shut up,” Harry said, kissing him again. Draco began rubbing Harry through the thin fabric of his pants. By the time Harry decided to return the favor he was fully hard. 

Despite his earlier stormy outlook on the encounter, Harry was pleasantly surprised to find Draco had a lot to be proud of. Harry broke the kiss to watch as he freed Draco’s dick from its confines. Of course, his dick was perfectly proportionally, long and thick, straight, and almost the exact shade of pink as his lips. It was like something out of a magazine. “How do you like it?” Harry whispered. 

Draco’s eyes didn’t stray from his as he answered, “Start slow, but with a solid grip, then as you get faster, pull harder.” 

Harry nodded, and began to stroke as instructed. He didn’t need to tell Draco what to do with his own, his earlier proclamation that Harry liked it rough was true, and he was currently pulling him off with fast and almost painfully hard tugs. 

“That’s it, Harry,” Draco said as he began to speed up. “Just like that.” Harry made a noise in the back of his throat and, if possible, got even harder. He saw Draco’s smile of recognition and closed his eyes, bracing himself for what was to come. “You’re doing so well, Harry, you’re doing such a lovely job for me.” He was rapidly approaching orgasm, and he was losing control on his strokes to Draco’s dick, tugging just as wildly as Draco was. “Be a good boy and come for me, Harry,” Draco crooned and Harry did just that, a half shout escaping his lips.

Harry was catching his breath when he realised that Draco had come, too, and was now cleaning him up with a shirt he’d no doubt found on the floor. “Draco,” Harry began, but he was shushed. 

“Be quiet, Harry.” Draco pushed him back into the pillows, and Harry suddenly felt rather tired and drifted off to sleep. 

When Harry woke up again he felt a warm, naked body behind him. Slowly, he pulled away, Draco barely stirring. He went to the ensuite bathroom and caught sight of himself in the mirror. The bruises from earlier were fading. Quickly he hopped in the shower. As he was toweling off, Draco walked in, eyes still crusty with sleep. 

“Aw, showering without me?” He teased. 

Harry went red. “Shut up.” He brushed past him ignoring the chuckles that followed him. 

When Harry went downstairs he found the living filled with plastic covered objects. “Draco!” He called and then after a moment, “Kreacher!”

Kreacher popped to his side. “Yes, Master Harry?”

“What is all this?” He gestured to the room. 

“Furniture, Master Harry,” Kreacher replied, then grumbled about ‘stupid wizards.’ 

Harry let out a breath. “I know that Kreacher, but where did it come from?” 

“Kreacher brought it in. It’s Master Harry’s and Draco’s order.”

“What?” Harry asked, just as Draco came down the stairs. 

“Oh, did Kreacher bring in the order?” Draco said looking around the room. “Excellent, thank you, Kreacher.”

Kreacher bowed deeper than Harry had ever seen him do. “Will that be all, Master Draco?”

“Have you made breakfast?”

“In the kitchen, Master Draco.”

“Dismissed,” Draco waved his hand as he started towards the furniture and Kreacher left. 

“What order?” Harry asked. 

“I put in by owl yesterday, before we got stuck,” Draco explained, uncovering a couch. Finding nothing wrong with it, he turned to Harry. “Why don’t we eat first?” 

They were just finishing breakfast when the Floo chimed. 

“Malfoy? Harry?” Hermione’s voice called out. 

“Coming!” Harry shouted, rushing into the other room.

“How are you two doing?” Hermione asked. 

“Well, er, not great?” Harry hazarded. 

“What happened?”

“We got into an argument last night and were punished,” Draco supplied, dropping down next to Harry. “The room practically exploded, and we woke up with bruises.” 

“That’s serious,” Hermione said. “But helpful. Anything else?”

“The bruises started to fade,” Harry said. “After…”

“Oh!” Hermione said, excited. “That is good. How?”

“After relations, Granger,” Draco snapped. “Is my mother there?”

“Yes, she’s right here.” Hermione glared at Draco one last time before Mrs. Malfoy’s head appeared. 

“Darling, how are you?” Mrs. Malfoy asked. 

“Fine, Mother, thank you,” Draco paused. “Mother, it seems the house will use violence to force Harry and me together. Do you know anything about that?”

“Not exactly, but it does help a little,” She turned her head away from them and addressed Hermione. “Miss Granger would you please hand me that red book on the desk?”

“What is it, Mother?” Draco said eagerly. 

“Patience, Draco,” she said as she flipped through the book. “Harry, how are you today?” She asked this as if she had asked it every day. 

“I’m fine, thank you, Mr. Malfoy, and you?”

“I am doing well, thank you.” Draco rolled his eyes at his mother but she didn’t seem to notice. She stopped flipping in her book and held it up. “Harry, did you see anything that looks like this?”

The photo showed a vase, decorated with intertwined flowers. “Yes, it was in the attic.”  
Mrs. Malfoy looked grim, she handed the book to Hermione. “I’ll let Miss Granger explain the details. Draco?”

“Yes, Mother?” 

“Please listen.” With that, her head disappeared from the flames. 

“Hermione?” Harry asked. “What is it.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Hermione said. 

“What is it Granger,” Draco snapped. 

“Well, you have to finish the remodels,” she said. “And you need to consecrate the house organically.”

“What does that mean?” Harry asked.

“It means we have to actually have feelings for each other and then we have to fuck,” Draco said bitterly. 

“Or what?” Harry asked. Hermione choked. “Or what, Hermione?”

“You die, Harry! You both do.” 

“I don’t understand.”

“The magic…it’s to ensure that an arranged couple will have a happy marriage. It’s going to foster feelings between you two, and then you have to christen the house, in good faith.”

“In other words, it’s going to make us fall in love,” Draco said. 

“Yes,” Hermione said, fully crying now.

“No,” Harry whispered. “You can’t be serious.” 

“I’m so sorry, Harry, I really am.”

“I can’t deal with this,” Harry said and got up. He headed for the stairs and barged into Sirius’ room. 

Fall in love with Draco Malfoy? His house was telling him who to fall in love with now? This was insane. He couldn’t breathe. 

“Harry?” Draco called. 

“No! Go away Malfoy!” 

“For fucks sake, Harry!” Harry heard him cast an alohomora and the door opened. “We can use magic now,” Draco said as he entered the room. 

“Draco please, just go away, I can’t do this.”

“Harry, listen to me, you have to do this.”

“What haven’t I had to do? Can’t I choose just this one thing?” Harry yelled. 

“Do you think I want this?” Draco countered. “Do you think I want to be trapped in here, forced to fall in love with you or else I die?”

“Well, you really haven’t been complaining thus far.”

“And what good would that do me? How would acting like you help at all?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, Harry, you’ve been acting like you’ve had no options.”

“I have options,” Harry replied. 

Draco laughed. “Like what? You haven’t done a thing since you left the Aurors.” 

“What the fuck do you know about it?” Harry yelled, “What does that have to do with anything?

“What the fuck doesn’t anyone know about it?”

“Excuse me?” Harry felt the air leave his chest. 

“Oh, come on, Potter, everyone knows that since you ‘took a break’ from the Aurors, you’ve done nothing with yourself. Don’t act like you haven’t been moping from room to room for the past six months. I could smell the desperation on you the minute I stepped into this place. No wonder the house turned against you. Everything about you says detached. And you know, I could excuse the melancholia, I really could, if you were actually doing something about it. But you’re not, you’re sitting around, staring at your ceiling all day and wishing something would change. You couldn’t even bother to fix up the home you’ve been living in for the past decade.”

“Fuck you, Malfoy! Are you saying this is my fault? If your mother hadn’t put her nose where it didn’t belong we wouldn’t be having this problem!” Harry came forward, pushing Draco away from him. “And what the fuck do you know about my life? Do you have any idea what it’s like to be constantly told you have to do something, and then when you finally fucking do it, suddenly it’s not good enough, or you’re not good enough, but it’s too late because this is all of you got, all you know, and when it’s gone you’ve haven’t got a shred of sense of who you are and what you want. You don’t know anything about…anything.” Harry trailed off when he saw the anger slip off of Draco’s face, and instead saw blankness. His eyes were clear and Harry couldn’t read them at all, but he knew he had made a mistake. 

“No, Potter,” Draco said tonelessly. “I can’t say I do know anything about that.” Harry’s eyes trailed to the Dark Mark stark on Draco’s skin. 

“Malfoy,” Harry began, but he was stopped by a single hand. 

“Save it, Potter, just do us both a favor and save it.” When he turned to leave the room the wardrobe began to tip. 

“Draco!” Harry shouted, pulling him back just before the thing came crashing down. They both breathed heavily for a moment before Draco pulled silently away, he cast Harry one last look before leaving the room. Harry watched him leave. 

A little while later Harry found Draco in the kitchen, sitting in front of a cooling cup of tea.

“Malfoy?” Harry said tentatively. No response. Harry moved further into the kitchen and took a deep breath. “Draco.” Slowly Draco looked up. Harry sat down across from him, Draco watching him the whole time. 

Finally, Draco sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I know.”

“I know you do, but let me say it anyway.” Harry reached across the table and took the surprisingly warm hand resting on the table in his own. Draco looked startled, but didn’t try to pull away. “Draco, I’m sorry. I wasn’t being fair when I said those things. I know you’ve had a hard time, too. Worse than that. We both have. And look at you now. I guess I was just mad that you’d found something and I hadn’t. That you seemed to actually like your life. And I know that this isn’t easy for you, I just feel so trapped. I don’t think I’ve ever made a major decision for myself.” 

Draco nodded and looked away. “I wasn’t entirely fair, myself. It wasn’t my place to say. It’s not my place at all, really. So, I apologise.” 

“Draco,” Harry said, squeezing his hand, and Draco looked at him. “It is your place.” Harry really wasn’t even sure what he was talking about now, but he was glad he said it when Draco gave him a small smile.

“Tell you what,” Draco said standing up, and pulling Harry to his feet. “I’ll let you choose a colour scheme for the downstairs bathroom. I won’t advise you at all.”

Harry laughed. “Really? I can choose any color?”

“Any color within reason,” Draco amended. “We’ve still got all the samples I’ve brought, and Kreacher can get supplies, so might as well get to work on this remodel. With magic.” 

“Thank God for small favours,” Harry said. Then, “ What do you think about red and gold for the bathroom?”

“You want your guests to take a piss in a Gryffindor shrine?”

“I should think you’d like that,” Harry quipped. They both began to laugh a the left the room, not noticing that Harry’s favourite mug reappeared on the kitchen counter. 

Now that they were able to use magic, and with Kreacher’s help, they were able to finish the down stairs study and living room. They closed out the day in front of the T.V. a Kreacher cooked meal in their laps, and terrible reality T.V. on that Draco loved. Harry had a deep, but brief feeling that he could get used to this. 

_______

Draco and Harry fell into a routine of sorts. They woke up, sometimes battered and bruised, which lead to an encounter. Never anything more than a hand job and some general heavy petting. They worked on as many rooms as possible in a day, usually about two. They spent their breaks in the library usually, ate dinner at the kitchen table. Perhaps watched a movie if they weren’t too tired. Then they went to bed. Repeat. 

They had been stuck in the house for about two weeks and were nearing the end of the renovations. Hermione and Mrs. Malfoy called them daily with updates, sometimes they thought they’d found something. It always turned out to be nothing. 

As the days wore on, Harry and Draco started getting into fewer fights, they became for affectionate. Playful pecks on the cheek, hand holding on the couch, little touches as they passed one another. And what truly scared Harry about this was he wasn’t sure if it was because they actually liked each other, or the house was making them more amicable. 

One night, when they were in bed, Harry turned to Draco and asked, “Do you think we’re going to die?”

“No,” Draco said immediately, then sighed. “We’re going to figure this out.”

“How? What if we can’t get past…everything?” Harry said. “We don’t even know how long we have.”

“Granger will figure something out, she’s smart.”

“Oh my god, are you complimenting Hermione?” Harry sat up straight and looked down at Draco in the dark next to him, fuzzy but still unmistakably embarrassed. 

“Well, she is smart, I’d be stupid not to notice,” Draco huffed and Harry laughed. 

“You’re such a numpty.” Harry lay back down, and Draco whacked his chest and they both laughed. It was quiet for a long time before Harry spoke again. “Draco?”

“I’m sleeping,” Draco murmured. 

“Yeah, never mind. Night.”

Draco sighed and rolled to face Harry. “What is it?”

“Do you think I’ll ever find something like you did? I mean if we ever get out of here?” Harry asked. 

“Of course you will,” Draco said. “You’re Harry Potter.”

“That’s the point, though,” Harry whispered, throat suddenly tight. “I’m Harry Potter.”

Draco let out a breath but didn’t say anything. Instead, he reached out and pulled Harry to his chest and dropped a kiss on his head. When Draco said, “Go to sleep, Harry,” he snuggled further into Draco’s embrace and went to sleep. 

______

“Harry, I don’t understand, this is the last room we have to do, besides the attic and the master which we for some reason can't do, so why can’t we just do it?”

“Why can’t we do the attic first?” Harry asked, closing the door to Sirius’ room. 

“Harry,” Draco said softly, “We have to do it sometime.”

“Do we?” Harry asked, already heading for the attic. He heard Draco sigh behind him, but he said nothing else, and followed Harry up the stairs. 

“Harry,” Draco said after awhile, and Harry already knew what was coming. 

“Please, don’t Draco,” Harry pleaded, unwilling to look at him. “I’m just not ready.” 

“I know,” Draco said, walking over and putting his arms around Harry’s waist, “but will you ever be?” 

“I don’t know,” Harry admitted. “But it’s not as if we don’t have other stuff to do. We can still finish clearing this stuff out. And then try the master again.” They had tried to redo the master that Harry had taken over, but for some reason, none of the changes stuck. Hermione theorized that they weren’t emotionally ready to the room, therefore the changes never stayed.

They had finished the whole of Grimmauld Place three days before, and Harry could admit that he loved what the had done with the place. Every room was bright and open, but stable, like Draco had promised they would be all those weeks ago.

Harry found his new favourite room was the library. Draco often liked to work in there, sketching designs, and browsing the old texts for inspiration. While he worked, Harry would read old murder mystery novels. Harry also discovered that Draco had a hobby for spell creation. He liked to participate in those experiments, though the spells normally ended up being too complicated to be useful. 

Unsurprisingly, the next day when they tried to re-do the master, nothing worked. 

During a floo call, Draco left the room, allowing Harry and Hermione to speak privately. 

“You know what you need to do,” Hermione told him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry replied. 

“Don’t play stupid Harry James Potter. You know exactly why you can’t re-do the master bedroom, and you need to speak with Draco about it.”

“Need to speak with me about what?” Draco asked from the doorway. 

“Nothing,” Harry said, and Hermione huffed. 

“Fine, Harry, stay in there forever, see what I care!” She disconnected the call. 

“What was all that about?” 

“She’s just being dramatic,” Harry said and Draco raised a brow. “You know Hermione.” A second brow joined the first. Harry brushed past Draco and went to the kitchen. 

A few seconds later Draco came in. 

“Lovely weather we’re having today,” Draco commented. 

“Draco, don’t start,” Harry pleaded, putting the kettle on.

Draco leaned against the door frame. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just trying to have a civil conversation with you, about the lovely weather we are having.”

“It’s literally thundering outside.” 

“It’s shame though, that we cannot go out and enjoy this wonderful weather so indicative of our great country. Such a lovely example of an English summer.” 

“Draco.”

“It’s just a tragedy that we cannot experience this for ourselves, all because of a good deed gone astray and one man's refusal to-” 

“Alright!” Harry shouted. “Alright, we can work on the room!” Harry slammed the kettle on to the back burner. 

“Well, if you’re certain,” Draco said innocently. 

Draco allowed Harry to open the door to the room and followed in after him. Harry conjured a box and set in on the bed. 

“Put everything in the box. Nothing gets thrown away,” Harry instructed. 

Draco did as he was told. Harry knew what Draco wanted to ask, he knew all the words Draco was desperately holding back, and he could only thank whatever god was listening that he was keeping them back. He couldn’t talk about this, not with Draco. How could he understand? This wasn’t a place for both of them, Draco shouldn’t even be in here; if only this stupid house could understand that. 

Harry had his back turned to Draco but he heard the bedside drawer opening. “No!” Harry shouted, but it was too late, Draco was already holding the letter, shock coloring his face as Harry lunged at him. “Don’t fucking touch that!”

“Harry, I-”

“Shut up!” Harry yelled, snatching the letter. “You shouldn’t even be in here! Touching his things! You don’t belong in here!” As soon as the words left his mouth Harry regretted them. Draco’s eyes went wide as he looked down at his shirt, suddenly blossoming with red, he looked back up to Harry before slumping over.

“Oh my God.” Harry dropped the letter, pushed Draco onto the bed, and clawed at his shirt buttons. “Oh my god, Draco? Can you hear me? Draco?”

“I can hear you,” Draco said weakly. The cuts seemed deep, but Harry thought he could heal them. He got his wand and immediately began casting every healing charm he knew. 

“Draco, it’s going to be okay, I’m going to fix this.”

“What is it with you and cutting me open,” Draco laughed shakily. “At least I won’t have new scars.” He was right, the new wounds had opened up right over his sectrumsempra scars. 

“Draco, it’s not working,” Harry panicked. “It’s not working, what do I do?”

“Kiss me, you idiot.”

“Do you really think now is the time for that, because you’re literally bleeding out on this bed.” 

“And whose fault is that?” Draco gasped. 

“Oh!” Realization hit Harry. 

“Kiss me like you mean it,” Draco said, grabbing the back of Harry’s neck and covering his lips with his own. Harry’s hand found Draco’s free one and intertwined their fingers. Harry felt blood seep into his shirt and kissed Draco harder, willing this to work. 

He pulled back and looked down at Draco’s chest. He wasn’t bleeding as much, but blood was still running in rivulets down his chest. 

“Draco, I don’t understand.” 

“You have to mean it, Harry.”

“I do mean it!” He kissed Draco again. “I mean it! Why isn’t this working?” 

“Harry, it’s okay,” Draco sighed, he was getting paler by the second. “No one could expect you to fall in love with me like this. I don’t blame you.” 

“But Draco, none of this is real! You can’t mean that you love me, it’s-it’s just the house! It’s not real, everything that we’ve done, it’s all fake!” 

“Do you really think that?” Draco asked, his eyes half closed. 

“It has to be! How can it be us?” He shook Draco. “Draco!”

“Does it feel real?” Draco opened his eyes wide, looking straight at Harry.

“Yes,” Harry whispered.

“Then it’s real.” 

This time, when Harry kissed Draco, he really did mean it. Draco was still beneath him for a long time, before he squeezed Harry’s hand and returned the desperate kiss. When they pulled back this time, the cuts weren’t bleeding any longer, but they were open and deep. 

“Draco, do you think you can scoot up a bit?” Harry asked. 

Draco did as he was asked but looked at Harry suspiciously. “What are you going to do?”

“Something I should have a long time ago,” Harry answered, reaching for Draco’s belt. 

Draco’s eyes went wide, “Harry, are you sure?”

“More than,” he answered, and leaned down to kiss Draco softly. “I want to, really, I do.” 

Draco nodded and watched as Harry removed his trousers, lifting his hips to help him. When Harry took off his own Draco felt himself harden and chuckled. “I’m pretty sure the remaining blood I have is now in my dick.”

“Don’t ruin this, Malfoy,” Harry smirked, settling himself between Draco’s legs. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it-” Whatever else he was going to say was cut off when Harry took him to the root. He managed a stuttered ‘fuck,’ as Harry bobbed up and down, building a steady rhythm. “You’re good at that,” he said and Harry hummed in response. He was getting close, but before he could tell Harry, he pulled off with an obscene pop and stood up.

“Harry?” Draco all but whined. Harry climbed up on the bed and threw a leg over Draco’s hips, lining his entrance with Draco’s dick. 

“Don’t worry, I prepared myself,” Harry said. 

“When?”

“When I was sucking you off,” Harry replied before lowering himself down onto Draco’s hard, slick cock. The both groaned as Harry seated himself fully, Draco’s hands coming to rest on Harry’s hips. Harry slapped them away. “Just enjoy, Draco,” he told him.

When he had caught his breath, Harry rose up slowly and lowered himself back down, eyes closed in concentration, his lip caught between his teeth. Draco could only stare mesmerized as Harry fucked himself on his dick. 

Soon the sound of flesh slapping flesh and their moans were the only things that could be heard within the room. Harry was riding Draco and tugging at himself in tandem, and Draco was allowed to run his hands over Harry’s body. 

Far too quickly for both their liking it was over, Harry coming all over Draco’s chest and Draco coming deep within him with a shout. 

Harry rolled off when it was over and looked down at Draco’s chest. 

“Draco they’re healing!” Harry exclaimed. 

Draco looked down and saw that Harry was right, the cuts were closing. “Oh my God, Harry, your dick saved my life. You truly are the saviour.”

Harry laughed and hit lightly on the arm. “Be serious, Draco. It’s the Chosen Cock.”

Draco laughed too, rolling closer to Harry, and throwing his arm over Harry’s stomach. They were quiet for a long time before Harry spoke. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered. “I didn’t mean what I said.”

“Which part?” Draco asked. 

Harry turned to face him. “All of it,” Harry answered. “You do belong here, Draco, I…I can’t imagine living here without you now, I mean if that’s-”

Draco cut him off with a kiss. “But Harry, I have to know, what’s so special about this room? I know it’s Sirius’ but why are you so attached to it?”

Harry sighed. “I didn’t want to be alone,” he admitted. 

“I don’t understand.”

“If I didn’t change the room, if I never came into the room, then he could still be here,” Harry explained. 

“Oh,” said Draco softly. “Oh, Harry.” 

“I know it’s stupid but it’s all I have.”

“Had,” Draco corrected. “All you had. You have me now.”

Harry gave him a watery smile. “Do I?”

“You’re never going to get rid of me, even if we’re ever allowed to leave this place.”

Harry laughed. “Then why don’t we get up and get started on our room, seeing as we’re going to be stuck in it forever.”

“Our room?”

“Unless you’re one of those weird purebloods that believe in sleeping in separate rooms.”

“Absolutely not.”

Harry sat up, “Then let’s get started.”

________

“Well, that is the last of it. Congratulations on your new home, Harry. Or I guess I should say our new home, seeing as we still can’t leave.”

“At least it’s comfortable,” Harry sighed, looking at the freshly made bed, in the newly renovated master suite. The room was a bit different from the rest of the house, as it had more of Draco’s influence. The furniture was smooth and sleek, black, and modern. The walls were stark white but were accented with green and gold art work. It was contemporary, but still inviting. 

“Well,” Draco said, coming up behind Harry and wrapping him in his arms, and resting his chin on Harry’s head. “Should we laud the room?”

“Please don’t quote your mother and reference sex at the same time,” Harry grimaced. 

“Alright, Harry, would you like to fuck on our new bed?”

Harry laughed, “Definitely.” 

Harry turned and they kissed briefly, before Draco pulled Harry’s shirt over his head, leading him back towards the bed. He pushed Harry down lightly and slipped his grey joggers down his hips. “Oh, no pants today, naughty,” Draco teased.

“Just get naked and come fuck me,” Harry replied. 

“You’re very demanding, today,” Draco said as he took off his own clothes. Harry watched as he got on the bed and hovered over him. 

Draco leaned down and kissed Harry, his hands traveling down to massage his balls. Harry arched into the touch, deepening the kiss between them. 

Draco pulled away and peppered kisses down Harry's chest, stopping to nuzzle his nose into the downy hair at the base of Harry's cock. He placed a chaste kiss on the tip of Harry's dick before heading further south to his perineum. 

"Is this alright, Harry?" Draco's breath ghosted over Harry's balls as he spoke causing Harry to shudder. Harry nodded fiercely in response. "I need you hear you say it, Harry." 

"Yes, yes, it's alright," Harry pleaded. 

"That's good, Harry," Draco crooned and Harry groaned. "You're always such a good boy, are you going to be good for me now?"

"Yes, Draco, anything, please." 

"Then open up for me, Harry. Show me everything." Draco pushed Harry's legs and they opened further, allowing Draco a clear view to his furled hole. "That's it, Harry, you're doing so nicely." 

Draco leaned down and bit lightly on Harry's thigh, then used his tongue to trace the mark, before dragging to circle at Harry's entrance. 

Harry moaned at the contact and fisted his hands in the sheets, unsure what to do with the pleasure that came from the light and teasing touch. When Draco's tongue plunged in, he screamed. 

Draco worked him open with his tongue, all the while teasing his cock with his fingers, never giving Harry the satisfaction of his whole hand. Harry did his best not to thrash around, and Draco had to hold his hips down more than once, but finally, it became too much. 

"Draco, please, I'm so close!" 

Draco pulled out slowly, tracing the outline of Harry's entrance before sitting up and looking down at Harry through half lidded eyes. "You did so well, Harry," Draco stroked the side of his face. "Do you want my cock now?" Harry nodded, throat tight. "You know I need to you go say it, Harry." 

"I want your cock, Draco!" Harry cried. 

"Beautiful," Draco breathed as he entered Harry. "Look how well you take it, Harry. It's like your arse was made for my cock." He pulled out and thrust back in, in sure hard strokes. 

"Jesus, Draco it feels so good," Harry moaned, wrapping his legs around Draco's waist. 

"Fuck Harry," Draco groaned. "You feel like...fuck...you feel like everything, Harry." Draco's thrusts began to increase in intensity. 

"Deeper Draco, please," Harry begged. "I need all of it!" Draco nodded, breathing too heavy for words. He pulled all the way out and slammed back into Harry, balls slapping his ass. "Yes!" Harry cried. "Just there!" 

"Harry," Draco panted. "Touch yourself." Harry wrapped his hand around his cock and began to jerk himself in short hard tugs. "That's it, keep touching yourself, and look at me." 

Harry opened his eyes and looked up at Draco, eyes hazy. "I'm close, Draco," Harry said, and Draco knocked his hand from his cock, replacing it with his own. 

"What do you need Harry?" Draco asked, fingers sinking into Harry's hip bones. "Beg for it Harry," Draco said, "Show me you deserve it. Show me you can be good."

"Please, Draco let me come," Harry whimpered. "I'll be good, I'll be so good for you, I'll be the best. Just let me come Draco, please!" 

Draco smirked, "There's a good boy." He tugged hard at Harry’s cock and the response was instant, his orgasm coming out in long ropes, splattering between them. Harry clenching around Draco brought about his own orgasm, he rode it out through a few final thrusts before collapsing next to Harry. 

They lay next to each other, breathing heavy for a few long minutes before Harry sat up, casting a quick cleaning charm on both of them. 

“Where are you going?” Draco asked, sitting up.

“To get some food,” Harry replied pulling the joggers back on. 

“Ugh, Draco flopped back down. “Why not just ask Kreacher?”

“You know I-”

“Yes, I know,” Draco cut him off. “Bring me some water, please!”

“You are a wizard you know,” Harry called back from the stairs. 

“So are you!” Draco retorted. 

“Draco!” Harry suddenly shouted, “Draco come quick!”

Draco bolted out of bed and down the stairs to find Harry standing the hallway. “Harry, what is it?”

“Look,” Harry pointed. “The door handle is back!”

“What?” Draco moved closer. The door handle was back. “Can we use it?”

Harry looked up at him, “Let’s find out.” They both walked slowly to the door; when Harry touched it and it didn’t dissolve, they both released a breath they didn't know they'd been holding. 

Harry turned the handle and the door opened, a bright and cool early autumn day greeted them. 

“Where should we go?” Draco whispered. 

Harry turned from the outside that they hadn’t seen in weeks and looked up at Draco with a Cheshire smile on his face. “Back upstairs?”

Draco grinned, took Harry’s hand, and pulled him back into the house. 

Outside wasn’t going anywhere.  



End file.
